Time to Love
by CreepyCoincidence
Summary: Darcy Lewis has never been so confused. Or this blind. DarcyXLoki. (AU, completely ignores the happenings of Thor and Avengers)


"No. That's incorrect."

Those are the first words she speaks to him.

For a moment, _a brief, panicky, wild_ moment, she hopes to hell that they're not the last words she speaks to anyone, _ever_.

Something skitters down her spine when he raises those bright, emerald green eyes to look up at her, and Darcy realizes she has goose bumps everywhere – on her arms, her legs, her thighs. Put it simply, she's panicking on the inside; her hands clench and unclench because she misses the warmth of her taser. (I tased one God already. I could do another too. I think.)

But her only matches her (terrified) gaze impassively and raises one cool eyebrow. "Really? How so?"

She releases the breath she didn't know she was holding and somehow stumbles forward to stand in front of him. "This – you twist it like this – clockwise –and no extra force needed – "

It opens with a pop, and for a moment, Darcy is satisfied.

Then their eyes meet again, and a chilling smile crosses Loki's face. "Thank you, Miss Lewis."

"Y-you're welcome."

Darcy stumbles back, out of the corridor, away from the maniac who is so different from the other Asgardians she has met that he makes her shiver all the way down to her toes.

(She openly ignores the fact that he makes her lady-bits shiver quite a bit too)

* * *

Heimdell said he randomly picked her and Jane, but sometimes, when she notices Thor's soft eyes, and Jane's bright smile, she wonders if he had some method to his madness after all.

Because they are happy together – they are in love. And any fool could see it. Including the lady-warrior Sif who sees it all too clearly, and clearly, it hurts her.

The festivities are going around them when Darcy (purposely) bumps into the dark haired woman and drops her drink on her armor.

"Oh my god- I'm so sorry, Lady Sif!" (Yes, Darcy has picked up the lingo all too well.)

Sif raises those blank, watchful eyes to meet Darcy's apologetic one's and gives her a bland smile. "It is quite alright, Lady Darcy." (Darcy isn't a Lady.)

"Are you sure? I dropped my drink all—"

"It's perfectly fine," Sif reiterates firmly.

Darcy is at a loss of how to continue the conversation, but then help arrives in the form of a tall, lanky, scary individual with green eyes who looks as if he can scan her very soul.

"Lady Darcy," he nods at her, and she is surprised that he even knows her first name. But then, maybe he made inquiries after she oh-so-eloquently told him that he was opening a plastic container wrongly – "And Lady Sif. You hair looks particularly nice tonight." He raises his golden goblet in a toast.

Sif openly bristles at the comment, and Darcy is surprised, because he just complimented her, did he not?

"Prince Loki," Sif all but spats out, "I thank you for your kind words."

Darcy glances at the Prince, whose eyes are shining in mirth, whose hair is bright in the light, whose skin is so pale, that she can see some veins criss-crossing his face – and she finds herself captivated by it all. The sheen of his smile, the smell of his leather gloves, the chink in his armor – he scares her, he terrifies her, he –he –he—

_(He will be you past, your present, your future, little one, he will be your knight in gleaming armor, your prince on the black horse, the God of Mischief, of Lies, of Trickery… of _Madness_.)_

Sif is still openly glaring at Loki, who looks merely amused as he proffers her his drink. She declines with fire in her eyes, and storms off with a spring in her steps, and Darcy detects in Loki's slightly quiet smile of what could have been. (Darcy burns with envy. She is set alight.)

He turns to face her. "Lady Darcy, how do you find Asgard?"

Hands grip the shadowy gown firmly. "It's beautiful."

"But that's what everyone says, while keeping their true thoughts to themselves. Come, Lady Darcy, you must tell me the truth – what do you really think of my home?"

"It's—it's beautiful," Darcy repeats like a broken record, not quite able to understand what he was really asking.

She can feel his interest in her dimming – that spark extinguishing.

—and he takes his leave of her with a graceful flourish.

…_what could have been?_

_(What will be?)_

* * *

"Come now, Loki, stop being so secretive – we saw you talking to her! Did she capture your interest?" He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Or did her huge—"the hand gestures on his chest convey the rest—

Loki calmly raises his glass to his lips, "She was a trifle boring."

* * *

Asgard _is_ beautiful, but it still can't help Darcy forget that night – the night where she made an utter fool of herself.

"It's beautiful," she mutters under her breath, kicking the stone in her path, "It's beautiful, and that's the best I can come up with, really." Her eyes skip over the pretty flowers, the shining ornaments, and the golden city –"I could've said: Oh, the God of _Lies_ wants me to tell the truth, what lovely irony, I could've said so many things. But no. Darcy Lewis, Idiot Extraordinaire."

"Darcy!"

Darcy spins around, and for a brief moment, feels like a Princess. It's something fleeting, that feeling – the press of a hand on her back, a circle around her head, a—

_(He will make you his, Child.)_

"Darcy, where have you been!?" Jane shouts across the garden, closing the distance between them with purposeful strides, "I've been looking everywhere!" Then, softly: "You had me worried."

"I just came out for a breath of fresh air."

Both women turn to look around them as one, and then sighed.

"It's—"

"—Beautiful."

Startled, Jane lets out a half-laugh, before stepping ahead to grasp Darcy's fingers and lace them through her own. "We're completing each other's sentences now."

Darcy experimentally tests the strength of their hand-holding, "Of course we are, now that you've stopped talking science."

Jane laughs loudly, her head thrown back.

(Darcy sees a Queen-in-making.)

"No, but—I'm so happy here, Darcy. I—it's finally proven that the bridge does exist, and that my theories aren't really rubbish. I wish Erik was here with us to see this!"

"—and you found Thor."

A light blush. "Yes, I found Thor."

"And he's perfect?"

"He's perfect," Jane confirms with a small, dreamy smile. "I wish you would find someone like him too, Darcy, it's the best feeling ever!"

Darcy manages a small smile too. "I don't think I'll be compatible with another Thor, Jane."

"Yes, but," and here, Jane's voice drops to a whisper, "you don't want to do anyone? I mean, everyone here is so—so—"

"Hot." Darcy completes, looking with fond amusement at how Jane has become a tomato. To ruffle her further, she adds, "My lady bits are tingling because of lack of use, you know."

As expected, Jane tunes her out because she is a Lady and Darcy most certainly is not.

"What about Loki? Is he your type?"

"…No."

"I've seen you look at him a lot."

"I'm scared of him, Jane. You generally look at things that are liable to morph you into a bug."

"Scared? Why?!"

"Don't you remember?!" Darcy asks, astonished.

"….No?"

"Dear Lord, Jane, he turned a dog into a bug the day we arrived!"

Jane looks confused, so Darcy elaborates. "A big, scary spider and then he laughed. He laughed, Jane, and Volstagg told me that Loki has… _issues_."

Jane's face clears up. "So, you're scared of Loki because he can turn people into bugs?"

"You think I'm being ridiculous, don't you?"

Jane bites her lower lip in an effort to not smile. It doesn't really work. "Darcy, Loki is a _God_. He can do things much worse than turn people into bugs."

"I don't like bugs," Darcy says firmly, keeping her fingers crossed behind her back.

For how can she tell Jane what she saw Loki doing in the dead of the night, when he thought everyone was asleep, when he thought no one was looking?

_(Yes, Little One, the son of Odin is not what he seems.)_

* * *

He pauses, "So you don't mind if I decide to court her?"

There is an uncanny silence, and he notices that Loki's eyes are suddenly very bright and calculating. Nevertheless, the God of Lies sets his glass down casually, and says, "Not at all."

* * *

Darcy is being courted.

She doesn't realize it at first. Actually, she didn't realize it at all, but that's what friends like Jane were for. The flowers left outside her door, the little lovable compliments paid to her every day, the part where he strived to escort her everywhere, all of them seemed obvious to Jane and oblivious to Darcy. He likes to smile a lot, he has a very manly beard, and he laughs a little too loudly, loves a little too sweetly, dances a little too vigorously. He never pressurizes Darcy to even touch him, he likes to finish the food on her plate, and he thinks the world is full of good people… _He_ is not what Darcy wants.

She is at a loss at how to deal with this situation, for she has always assumed that she would go back. (No, I _am_ going back. I refuse to stay here.)

So she approaches the one person who could help her with these Asgardian customs that she knows not of.

Thor is dejected, disappointed, but he doesn't say anything to Darcy about her suitor. And for that, Darcy is grateful. She doesn't want strife, or petty drama. Darcy just wants to have a little fun.

The next day, he doesn't send flowers, he doesn't compliment her, he doesn't even try to escort her.

The day after that, Loki shoots a loaded glance and a captivating smile at Darcy.

* * *

"Lady Darcy."

"Prince Loki."

Fingers flutter, hands tighten.

"You cannot defeat me, little mortal," Loki says regally, with an almost imperceptible smirk on his face. His horse stamps the ground furiously, as if in agreement. The horse looks like him, dark, black, _sinful_.

Darcy is seated upon her own brown horse, whose liquid brown eyes look upon the scene impassively. "I will never know unless I try."

"Ah, but the endeavor won't be fruitful."

"All endeavors never are."

"But they should be."

Darcy feels that Loki isn't talking about horses anymore. Before she can reply, Thor shouts at them to get ready, and before she knows it, the flag is raised, and her horse darts ahead, leaving behind their little conversation like the dust in their wake. (I am sorry to let it go.)

Then the wind blows her hair in different direction, and her body responds to the horse's movements, and she is lost to the world. _This_. This is familiar. This is good. This is something she can deal with without thinking that there are undercurrents she is missing, undercurrents she cannot grasp; they slip past her fingers like little sheets of paper.

She barely notices the dark-skinned horse skim ahead of her, she doesn't hear Loki's joyous laugh, she doesn't see the rock until it's too late –and then there is impact.

The horse screeches, Darcy screams, there is a loud thud, and she is flying in the air, her eyes closed tightly, waiting for the inevitable pain, the—

Her face collides with something soft and hard at the same time.

"I thought," Loki says, his chest rumbling, the vibrations travelling through her body, "it would be better if I caught you without my armor on."

Darcy cannot keep her snarky self inside anymore. "I'm afraid you'll have to elaborate since this could mean several things, trickster."

She can feel Loki's start of surprise; he evidently never thought she would respond to him like this. His arms are wrapped around her waist, her legs are straddling his torso, he is still standing, and she is silently blushing.

"What would _you_ like it to mean, mortal?"

Darcy slowly raises her head to meet his eyes. They are a blazing green that shake her very soul. "I—I—"

"Do not even attempt lying to the God of Lies, Lady Darcy."

"I am no Lady," she blurts out without thinking, and for a moment, there is silence.

Then Loki is laughing, loud, booming laughs that can be expected from a person born in royalty, from a God with nothing to hide but his thoughts, from a man who looks like women fall at his feet whenever he wants.

Darcy shakily removes her arms from around his neck, unlocks her knees from around his hips, and he lets her go. She fervently hopes he has not heard her heart beating a thousand miles an hour. She fervently hopes he doesn't know what she wants right no—

He kisses her.

The kiss is heated, passionate, meaningful, but it is all lost on Darcy who stands in shock, her hands fisted next to her, her eyes wide open. Loki tries, she gives him that credit, he moves his lips purposely against hers, he nibbles on her lower lip in a failed attempt to get her to engage him, he rests his arms in the crook of her waist –but she doesn't respond. There is a buzzing in her ears, a tightness in her navel.

Then her poor horse neighs loudly, and she hears Thor shouting in the background as they have come to check on her, and she steps back, stumbles back to fall on her rear.

Loki doesn't look at her again for the whole way back.

_(You will try to resist, and you will fail. All endeavors do not lead to success, my Dear.)_

* * *

**A/N: First foray into Lokidom. Because every girl worth her two cents loves him and his awesomeness and his green eyes and yes, I needs to stop drooling.**

**Also shipper of LokiXDarcy, because, well yeah. Although I read JaneXLoki too, all because of the authors who write them. (Damnyouamazingpeople)**

**Don't know where I'm going with this.**

**Angsty mood, so angsty Darcy.**

**All questions will remain unanswered. They are for me to know, and for you to find out. Later.**

**Looking at a two-shot. Love you all. :D**

**Reviews make crappy hostel life and end-sem time seem worth it.**


End file.
